Broken
by SteeeeeeeveWatson
Summary: After the Holocaust, GermanyXRussia. Kinda twisted and dark... I don't agree with the holocaust and I don't own Hetalia.Based on a quote from Stalin; "The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic." Not very historically accurate
1. Chapter 1

Broken

_**This is fiction. I do not think the Holocaust as a good idea and any views reflected in this are purely on a character basis no offence is intended to Russia/Germany/Italy/Lithuania or anyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please R and R**_

_**Based on a quote from Stalin **_

"_**The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic"**_

Efficiency; One of the things Germany prized most The worst thing about it; The cold, merciless efficiency with which people had been taken away and… dealt with. He shuddered. He couldn't even think about it now. Not properly. Even that fact made him hate himself more each minute. Each second. It was his fault. It was his burden. His guilt. This was nothing that could be passed off as sheer ineptitude on the part of Italy or Japan, as were most of his mistakes. This was the opposite. If he had left Italy in charge it would have been ok. Nothing would have happened. But he hadn't. And it had.

His hands smelt of death.

Italy had tried to speak to him about it. Of course he had. He had felt guilty for leaving him. He couldn't see why.

That was a lie. He could. Italy was a kind, good person. He couldn't identify with the younger man though. Of course he couldn't. He was a monster. He ground his fist into his palm.

Why?

So many people had asked. He had given each of them the same answer. "Just following orders." Just following orders. Saving his own skin. While the flesh of others; Men; Women; Children; Fathers; Mothers; Brothers; Sisters; Lovers; Friends; burned. Because of his weakness. His inability to see past the rules. To see that what he was doing was wrong. That was a lie too. He had known. Obviously he had known it was wrong. He wasn't stupid. Well, Not that stupid. He was just scared. Too scared. Scared for himself; His friends; His family; after what he had heard, anyone would have done it right?

Wrong. There was no-one else he could think of who would have done what he had done. He had said it before. He was a monster. He had killed… so many. He couldn't bear to speak to anyone anymore. It wasn't right. Especially not Italy. He couldn't. Even after Italy had addressed him directly he had turned away. Unable to respond.

_Italy came into the room, his eyes filled with tears. "D…d…doisu? Is… Is it true…did you…?" The usually smiling boys face was devastated, his lip quivering. Germany nodded, his eyes on the floor, face ashen. He had been dreading this. He had replayed the situation in his head over and over, trying to think of what to say, but now there was nothing. Nothing he could say would make people hate him any less. Especially not the young man who stood before him now, trying desperately to rationalise the situation in his head. He couldn't. The boy was too innocent. Too naïve. Too pure. _

_Italy looked at Germany. His heart ached. He knew it shouldn't. He should hate the other man. What he had done was… awful. Horrible. But he knew why. He wasn't that stupid. He had heard conversations behind closed doors. Threats. Pleas. And now there was nothing he could say to make it better. He could see the pain in the other mans eyes. The self-loathing. He wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms, to make it all better. But the other man turned away. When he moved towards him, to put a hand on his shoulder, to say that he didn't blame him, he turned away. He still hated him. Still. And he didn't know how he could change it. He had tried so hard. Always. But now… he just… He couldn't try anymore. He left the other man's house. _

_He cried for hours that night._

_Back at his own house Germany cried too. For what could have been. For the lives he had taken. For the fear in Italy's eyes as he had asked him the question he had so desperately wanted to answer with no, with the lie that would make it all better. _

He couldn't see Italy again. He was a bad influence; his every word was laced with poison. Italy hated him now. He was sure of it. The kind of certainty that made him want to scream and stay silent at the same time. That made him want to protect the smaller man, but push him away. The kind of certainty that meant he could never speak to the boy again. Ever.

That kind of finality can drive you mad.

The images in his mind were more than enough to tip him over the edge. But still he had remained … there. Not well, but still there. There was still that spark of hope dwindling in the corner of each bloodshot eye.

He had to talk to someone. Someone who understood the implications on mind, heart and soul of what he had done. Someone far less innocent than the smiling child whose smile lit up his heart. Someone who could know how it felt. But there was no one. No one could deal with what he had done.

No one ever had. So he turned to the one man who had done it all before. The one man who would understand hat it was like to be constantly commanded by a leader who was rapidly loosing sanity.

Russia smiled. "So you came here! I'm so happy! But I don't really understand the problem…"

Germany looked up at the man sitting by the fire. "You don't? But I thought you of all people…"

Russia's grin widened. "You're funny!"

He liked this. Sure he had Lithuania… And Latvia… And Poland… But he was always looking for new toys, and Germany was so messed up at the moment. It was cute, and it left him so much scope for fun! He hated seeing the other man like this. He smiled to himself, he had nearly said friend. Friend! Russia didn't have any friends, he had toys. Lots of toys. But he could make Germany a friend. He could make him happy. They could have fun together, go on walks, pick flowers. Germany would laugh at his jokes, really, not like the others did. They were just scared. Germany would like him for him. But first he had to make things right.

He would explain things to him. He would take the self-loathing and turn it around. Make him understand what it was to hate everyone. To only ever feel truly happy when hurting someone else. To understand the joy that came from seeing someone weaker squirm in pain. He sighed happily. He was going to have so much fun!!

_Latvia sat quietly in a corner of the room. Russia and Germany were talking, Russia's eyes sparkling madly. He knew what Russia was like when he got into one of these moods, so he stayed quiet, wishing he could speak. Desperately wishing he had the courage to tell Germany to run. To run while he still could. He listened intently to the conversation. Russia was talking animatedly, talking about… something. The situation was too generic for him to recognise exactly who Russia was on about._

"…_And then I hit him on the head with my water faucet, and he fell over and the blood came out like a fountain. It was really pretty!!" Germany sat on the floor, a disgusted expression across his face. "I don't see how this is relevant…" Russia paused. Phased for a moment. "Oh… I don't know… it was just something fun I thought you'd like to hear…And you kept boasting about what you'd done." He pouted, upset by Germanys apparent disinterest. Germany sighed. "I wasn't boasting, Ivan. I think I'll just…" He gestured towards the door. Russia looked at him, shocked. "You can't go… You have to stay here with me. We can talk… It'll be fun." Germany nodded quietly and sat back down at Russia's feet. Latvia walked out. He couldn't watch any more. Germany had been… Ok. He was a good person at heart and Russia would… Toy with him. Not deliberately, but he would mess him up. He couldn't watch._

_Russia looked at Germany inquisitively. "How any?" Germany looked up, perplexed. "What?" Russia rolled his eyes. "How many dead?" Germany looked down, eyes sparkling with tears. "There were six million, six million people. Women, and children. I…" Russia interrupted. "Only six million? Then I win! That's not even close!" He clapped his hands together grinning. "My total in one period is thirteen million, so I win, da?" Germany stood up. "I can't talk to you… You…" Russia stopped grinning. He put his hand on Germany's shoulder and turned him round. "I know," He said quietly. "It's hard, but you have to stop thinking of them as people. It's just numbers. Not human beings. Then it doesn't matter what you do." Germany looked at him. "Your logic is twisted…" Russia sighed and looked at him, His eyes huge. "Just try." _

It was quarter past two in the morning. Germany knocked on Russia's door. He was tired. He hadn't been sleeping at all lately. Every time he fell asleep he had dream. Not dreams. Nightmares. Emaciated corpses. Children smiling, running towards those buildings. Towards their deaths. He pushed open the door tentatively. "Russia…" he paused, checking that the other man was awake. Russia smiled sleepily and patted the bed next to him. Germany stopped, before walking slowly towards the bed. He sat down on top of the covers. "What do you do about the nightmares?" Russia smiled. He could do this. He had had them to start off with. He had had awful nightmares after the red scare. But then he had told himself it didn't matter. Those lives… they were nothing in the scheme of things. But he had tried that before with Germany. It hadn't worked. He sighed. He thought he could do this, but… he couldn't. He looked at Germany, who was now sitting with his head in his hands. He lifted the other mans chin, so he was looking directly at him. He looked into his eyes "They'll go away." He pressed his lips to the other mans, moving his hands into his hair.

Germany woke up. He was lying next to Russia. It was just about dawn. A sliver of light was coming through the drawn curtains, lighting the other mans face. It was hard. He didn't understand. He had felt like this before, but… not with Russia. It was… strange. Russia understood him. He knew about the things he had seen. The things he had done. And he didn't judge him, he hadn't looked at him like he was dirt under his shoe. He had helped. He had explained things perfectly. He had taken the… evil out of it. He had shown him that it was just numbers. That was all. So it didn't matter. He… he could do it again. He wouldn't. But he could. It wouldn't matter. It was just numbers. He smiled, brushing the blonde hair from the mans sleeping face. Life was good.

Italy woke up. He had had such a good dream, he had to tell… wait. Hecouldn't. Germany still hated him. Things weren't going to change. He looked at the floor, trying in vain to stop the tears. He glanced out of the window towards Russia's house. Germany was there. Holding Russia's hand, smiling. He was happy. Italy wept. He wept for the kind, gentle soul he had known. For the twisted man that he now saw. For the love they could have. Should have shared. But there was nothing now. Nothing he could do to save the other man. It was over. Doisu was gone forever. Germany was there, yes. But he was different. Wrong.

Broken.

_**End. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**So I finally got round to writing chapter 2!! Don't worry this isn't the end. This would be a rubbish ending! I hope you enjoy it! Please R and R. Again I don't own Hetalia, sadly. I can't draw and have no time. Much love to my own Preussen, and to Austria and Su-san if they read this, which I highly doubt!! Will update next chapter soon.**_

_**Deiner**_

_**Wessi. **_

Prussia was pissed off. He hadn't chosen to make this so called 'treaty' with Russia. He hadn't had any choice in this. It was Germany's fault. No. That wasn't exactly true. It was Russia's as well. Mostly Russia's. His brother was far too impressionable… He stood up. He knew how he could fix things. His brother would listen to him. He couldn't ignore to him; he was his awesome big brother. Hell, he brought him up! He was obviously too young to make his own decisions, so Prussia would have to step in. What he was doing now… didn't make sense. It wasn't like his brother at all. He was reasonable. He made perfect sense. Perfect, dull, boring, sense. This didn't make sense. And it wasn't fun nonsense. It was just wrong.

Prussia burst into the room. Germany was reading something, sitting at a desk in front of a large window. It was winter. The trees in the garden were coated in snow, the scene was beautiful. Picturesque. It looked like a Christmas cover. Prussia paused for a moment, hypnotised by the beauty of it all, before storming over to where Germany was working. Dramatically he knocked the papers to the floor. Germany turned around, one eyebrow raised. 'Can I help? Or are you just being deliberately annoying?' His tone was bitter. The two men had been arguing for the past month, and had now reached the stage where they were simply sniping at each other whenever they got the chance.

Prussia scowled at him. 'I don't like this. It's wrong. You're wrong.'

Germany smirked. 'You've been saying that for the past month. I thought we agreed not to argue.'

Prussia glared at him. 'I mean it, West. You've changed. I don't like it. This isn't why I saved you. This isn't how I brought you up. He's spoilt it all.' He pouted, and threw himself into one of the chairs around the edge of the room.'

Germany scowled at him. 'You just can't deal with the fact that I'm happy. That for once I don't feel awkward. That I have a friend.'

Prussia rolled his eyes. 'He isn't your friend. He's evil, you know how many people he's killed?'

Germany stood up, and banged his fist on the desk. 'Do you know how many people I've killed? He understands! He's helped!'

'He's insane!' Prussia retorted, standing up again. 'What you did was different. He's worse. You made a mistake. You learned from it. Do you really think that what you did was the same as what he's done?'

'Yes! It's the same. Hell, it's worse. His was spur of the moment, caused by paranoia. What I did… It was clinical I knew what I was doing. I knew it was wrong. I did it anyway. If anything I'm worse!' Germany sat down again, putting his head in his hands. 'I'm worse.' He repeated, quietly.

'Lying to yourself about it isn't going to help. You have to deal with it, not ignore it.' Prussia told him, his voice softer. He hadn't known about it, when it was happening. If he had… he would have stopped it. Obviously. But his brother was naïve. He would believe whatever crap that bastard Hitler had fed him. That wasn't true. But Prussia wasn't an idiot, neither was his brother. He had a reason. Hitler had threatened Italy, Prussia had heard conversations behind closed doors, he hadn't known why, but he had still heard the threats. Prussia was fairly sure Hitler had threatened him as well. But that was irrelevant. Nobody could hurt him. He was awesome. He sighed and looked at his brother. 'Seriously Wessi. Let's go home.'

Germany nodded, before standing again, slowly. 'I'll go speak to Russia.'

Prussia rolled his eyes again. 'Like that'll work. We need to just go.' He nodded towards the treaty Germany had been rereading. 'Did you sign that yet?' The other man shook his head. Prussia grinned. 'Then lets go!'

Germany followed him mutely, eyes glistening with tears. He couldn't go back to life as normal. He couldn't. He wouldn't cope.


	3. Chapter 3

**So this is the last chapter. I was talked out of killing Ludwig by a friend so the ending's kind of soppy... Ah well! Please read and review!**

Ludwig was ready. He had written to Gilbert, explaining what he was going to do, and why. He had also left pages and pages of instructions, and information. Everything his brother needed to know to carry on for him. Everything was planned. He was going to take his rifle, get in Gilberts boat, row out, stand on the edge of the boat and shoot himself. No-one would be inconvenienced, and no mess would be made. It would be over. He only had one thing left to do.

He walked down the path to Feliciano and Romano's home, holding the other letter he had written. The letter to Feliciano. He wasn't sure if he should have written it. The other man, once his best friend, hated him now. But he needed to tell him something, anything. He couldn't leave things as they were. He just couldn't. Could he? He faltered as he reached out to push the letter through the door. Would it be easier for Feliciano to carry on believing Ludwig hated him?

Possibly.

Probably.

He walked back down the path, pausing at the gate. He turned again and walked back towards the door. He began to push the letter in, but before he let it drop he caught it again, and pulled it out. He turned again, but before he reached the gate he stopped. He glanced up at the window on the right, Feliciano's window, but the curtains were drawn. He stood, looking at the door, trying to make one of the most difficult decisions he had ever had to make.

Romano glared out of his bedroom window. What the hell was the potato freak doing on their drive? It was the middle of the bloody night for frick's sake! Why the hell was he here?! He opened the window to shout, but before he did he remembered that his brother was asleep in the next room. He ran down the stairs and charged out of the door. He stormed up to Ludwig. 'What the hell are you doing here you pervert!? Are you trying to upset my brother again? Are you?'

Ludwig looked up towards Feliciano's window again. 'He was upset?' He spoke quietly, a perplexed expression flashing across his face.

Romano rolled his eyes. 'Of course he was! Jeez, you are stupid!' He glanced at the letter in Ludwig's hand. 'You couldn't even fricking apologise to his face?'

Ludwig blushed and looked away. 'I…'

Romano scowled at him, snatching the letter. He scanned over it quickly, his face moving from anger, to shock, to disgust, and back to anger. He screwed up the first page and moved onto the second. Once he had finished reading he looked up. 'What the Hell?! You can't… do that. He's been crying everyday since we joined the allied side. Every fricking day! And I couldn't do anything. You know why?'

Ludwig mutely shook his head. Romano rolled his eyes. 'Because he wanted you. Not me. He loves you!' Ludwig's head snapped up, and he looked carefully at the smaller man's face. 'Really? He… he loves me?' Romano looked incredulous. 'You didn't know? Jeez you're even thicker than I thought! How dense can you be?!'

Ludwig looked up at the window. 'So… I… I can't…'

Romano glared at him. 'No you frigging can't.' He grabbed hold of Ludwig's arm and dragged him indoors. 'Feli!!' He yelled up the stairs.

There was no response. 'Stay there.' He shot a filthy look at Ludwig before running up the stairs. A few minutes later he came back down, followed by a very sleepy Feliciano. 'I still don't see why I have to wear pants. I never usually…' He stopped as he noticed Ludwig. 'Doi-su!' He smiled shyly. 'Why are you here?'


End file.
